


017 Buried Alive

by rhicola



Series: Bethyl Prompt List [5]
Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2822057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhicola/pseuds/rhicola





	017 Buried Alive

Trees. Darkness. Darkness she could feel and see, hear and touch. So dark that she felt like a child again, lying in bed and straining her eyes to see through the darkness of her room to find the boogeyman from the movie her brother made her watch; wishing she hadn’t thrown a fit to get rid of that night light kids her age didn’t need to have. Darkness that was deafening, suffocating.

Trees. Sunlight. Blurry figures. Voices. The smell of freshly fallen rain. Darkness.

Each glimpse told her more, but each glimpse was shorter than the one before. And darkness always followed.

Warmth. A blanket wrapped around her as her father carried her from the couch downstairs to her bed—as someone laid her down gently and the smell of earth surrounded her. Light. Blurry figures. A face. 

Daryl Dixon.

Darkness. Whimpers. Warmth. Earth.

She tried to scream, tried to move; just open her eyes a little wider and show them that she was okay. Alive. But the pain shooting around her skull prohibited her from making the slightest flinch. Words. Sorrowful words. Darkness.

Darkness that was suffocating. Darkness as dirt fell lightly on top of her, like the snow that melted on her rosy cheeks as she shuffled an angel into the ground next to Maggie. Giggles that turned into cries of grief muffled by the soil. Darkness, even as her eyes slid open.

Buried alive. Definitely alive as her fingers twitched and her toes curled and she fidgeted under the weight of the dirt piled on top of her. The dirt that had settled already. How had she not run out of oxygen?

Panic surged through her, anxiety flowing through her veins as she clawed at the ground above her, fighting her way through it. Her will to survive numbed the pain in her head just long enough for her to catch wind with her fingertips and break free from her premature grave.


End file.
